Parashat Toldot | Genderqueering & Ableism
Parashat Toldot offers a narrative rich in complexity, presenting us with characters who resist easy categorization and binaries. Esau, Jacob, Rebecca and Isaac each embody identities and experiences that challenge societal expectations of gender and ability, especially in the context of the Torah.
The Torah's narrative doesn’t usually explicitly critique or validate the actions of its protagonists, leaving space for us, the readers, to grapple with these narratives and read out new and unique interpretations of the text. Through the lens of Neuroqueer Torah, we can uncover possibilities and reclaim our ancestors and their literature as models for understanding queerness, neurodivergence, and disability.
Esau is introduced in Genesis 25 as "red and hairy like a mantle," a physical description that marks him as stereotypically hypermasculine in the context of the Torah. He is a hunter, beloved by his father Isaac for his physicality and his ability to provide. Yet, as Rabbi Dr. Sarra Lev notes, Esau's portrayal is far from one-dimensional. His emotional vulnerability, subservience, and rejection of patriarchal power dynamics defy traditional masculine expectations and position him as a deeply gendered figure.
In Genesis 25:29-30, Esau returns from the field and declares, "I am so tired that I could die.” This exhaustion can be read as a reflection of the chronic fatigue experienced by those who are forced to perform gender roles that do not match their true selves. Esau's fatigue with hunting and providing can be seen as symbolizing a deeper fatigue with performing hypermasculinity to meet his father's approval.
Alternatively, we could read Esau's exhaustion through the lens of masking in the context of autism and neurodivergence. Masking refers to the process by which neurodivergent individuals suppress or alter their natural behaviors, often assuming expected social roles and acting in "socially acceptable" ways in order to survive in environments that privilege neuronormative norms. For Esau, his masking may involve not only the physical acts of hunting and providing, but also the emotional labor of embodying the expectations of the eldest son, which include dominance, stoicism, and adherence to patriarchal norms.
His declaration of extreme exhaustion, "I'm so tired I could die," may reflect the toll of living up to these expectations, a toll familiar to many neurodivergent folx who spend their lives playing roles that are fundamentally misaligned with their true selves. For many of us, the combination of both gender and neuro-normative masks is deeply exhausting and does much damage to our inner selves.
Esau's decision to sell his birthright has often been interpreted as impulsive or foolish. However, Rabbi Lev and Jo Henderson-Merrygold offer similar, yet slightly diffrent readings. Rabbi Lev frames Esau's act as a rejection of patriarchal norms, choosing to prioritize his immediate needs over the societal expectation of leadership as the firstborn. Henderson-Merrygold, in her dissertation Gender Diversity in the Ancestral Narratives: Encountering Sarah & Esau Through a Hermeneutics of Cispicion, highlights Esau's decision as an act of queer resistance - an intentional refusal to conform to the rigid expectations of masculinity and power. My reading of this scene through an autistic lens focuses offers something else. Esau's literal interpretation of Jacob's offer reflects his straightforward and literal processing, a trait often misunderstood within neuronormative frameworks. All readings affirm Esau's agency and the courage it takes to live authentically in the face of societal rejection and patriarchal, heteronormative, neuronormative systems.
Jacob, on the other hand, embodies a different kind of gender complexity. Described as smooth-skinned and a tent dweller - traits often associated with femininity - Jacob contrasts sharply with his brother's ruggedness. Yet in Genesis 27, Jacob adopts his brother's hypermasculine identity by wearing Esau's clothes and covering his arms with goat skins in order to deceive Isaac. This act of disguise parallels the experience of masking for neurodivergent people - a survival strategy that involves suppressing one's true self in order to conform to societal expectations. As Joy Ladin notes, Jacob's performance reflects how societal systems reward those who can convincingly conform, even at the expense of their authenticity and mental health. Unlike Esau, who rejects these norms, Jacob manipulates them to gain power, revealing the tension between strategic conformity and authenticity in oppressive systems. It is a good mirror of our society, where neurodivergent and queer people often perform heteronormativity and neuronormativity to get ahead in the world.
Isaac's role in this story is equally complex. His preference for Esau's hypermasculinity reinforces patriarchal and heteronormative values, suggesting that strength and utility are valued over vulnerability and emotional depth. Yet Isaac himself is disabled, and his disability (his blindness) becomes a tool of manipulation. This highlights how Rebecca and Jacob's exploitation of Isaac's blindness exemplifies systemic ableism, which treats disability as a weakness rather than a characteristic worthy of respect. They use the fact that he is disabled to violate his boundaries, his wishes, and his sense of autonomy. To what end? For their own personal gratification. Isaac's trembling in Genesis 27:33 reflects the damage caused by these dynamics, but his acceptance of Jacob's deception and his rejection of Esau's gender-nonconformity reveal his complicity in perpetuating these harmful systems.
Esau's emotional responses, particularly his weeping in Genesis 27:34 and his internal processing of revenge in 27:41, are often dismissed as impulsive or destructive. Reframed through the lens of alexithymia-the difficulty in identifying, sourcing, and articulating emotions common to neurodivergent people-Esau's emotions reflect a profound and deeply felt pain. Far from being a failure, his inner breakdown reveals the trauma of being misunderstood and marginalized. These moments challenge us to see Esau's vulnerability and resilience as sources of strength, and also allow us as neurodivergent people to see ourselves in the text.
The rabbis in the Midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 63:10) cast Esau in a highly critical light, explicitly linking him to same-sex relations and promiscuity through the euphemism of "abandoning himself like a field. This interpretation positions Esau as transgressing the sexual and gender norms of his time, further solidifying his rejection within rabbinic tradition as unfit for the patriarchal legacy. The midrash links Esau's perceived gender nonconformity to broader anxieties about queerness and male vulnerability, portraying him as a figure who defies societal boundaries and, in turn, becomes a target for condemnation.
Rabbi Ḥiyya explicitly links this image to Esau's perceived failings, framing his actions as emasculating and his openness as shameful. The invocation of Jeremiah 49:22, “the heart of the brave of Edom will be like the heart of a woman in pain on that day” is meant to further degrade Esau by comparing him to a woman, a critique in patriarchal societies that value male dominance and stoicism. The midrash thus reinforces the rabbinic unease with identities and behaviors that deviate from rigid gender and sexual norms.
Yet even within this critique, we can uncover a deeper and more affirming truth. We can also see that this idea of Esau as gender nonconforming existed and has always existed in our tradition. The metaphor of the "open field" evokes images of openness, receptivity, and expansiveness - qualities that, when reframed, can be seen as profoundly sacred. Esau's openness, whether in his emotional vulnerability, his gender complexity, or his rejection of patriarchal expectations, challenges traditional boundaries of masculinity and heterosexuality. The rabbis' discomfort with Esau's liminality reflects their own anxieties about power, identity, and conformity, not Esau's inherent failure.
The very verse from Jeremiah used to condemn Esau emphasizes the sacred potential of his femininity. While the rabbis use it as a critique, we can instead see it as an acknowledgment of Esau's gender complexity. His ability to embody traits traditionally coded as both masculine and feminine - his ruggedness and vulnerability, his openness and strength - offers a vision of identity that transcends rigid binaries. Far from being a symbol of failure, Esau becomes a figure of sacred defiance, embodying resistance to systems that marginalize queerness and emotional authenticity.
Reclaiming this midrash allows us to see Esau not as a rejected other, but as a model of sacred expansiveness. His "field-like" nature can be reframed as a divine openness to possibility, a rejection of the narrow confines of heteronormative and patriarchal expectations. In this way, the rabbinic critique of Esau becomes an opportunity for us to embrace and elevate his identity as a reflection of the infinite diversity of the divine.
The Torah narrative does not directly critique or validate the actions of our patriarchs and matriarchs. Instead, it invites us to make our own interpretations that reveal deeper truths. This is the beauty of the Torah! Esau's rejection of patriarchal roles, Jacob's calculated conformity, and Isaac's experiences with ableism reflect the struggles of navigating social systems that demand rigid performance. Through the lens of Neuroqueer Torah, Esau emerges as a figure of holy defiance, Jacob as a reflection of the costs of masking and conformity, and Isaac as a reminder of the damage caused by internalized biases and systemic oppression.
Our parasha reminds us that divinity is not found in perfection or conformity, but in the sometimes messy, always beautiful reality of human complexity. Life is complicated. Our texts reflect that. By queering the text and reclaiming these narratives, we affirm the sacredness of queerness, neurodivergence, and disability as integral to Torah and Jewish civilization. In doing so, we participate in the sacred work of creating a tradition that uplifts and includes all voices, ensuring that no one remains marginalized.
